


Wait For It

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom!Link, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, One-Shots, Sub!Rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhett finds out what he didn't know he's been waiting for his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For It

It’s in the way his hands sit still in his lap. They’re sixteen, surrounded with friends, another birthday party. Link has always been a fidgety soul, and when he’s being asked to spin the bottle, Rhett’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. He’s not sure why. The bottle spins in the centre of their circle, veering wildly, and Rhett is thanking his lucky stars nobody else seems to notice how intently he’s focused on it. It eventually slows, and so does the air in Rhett’s lungs, and it just barely misses him, skewed off to his right, aimed at some girl he’s barely known for five minutes. Disappointment floods him, but he sees Link’s face fall, too, or at least he thinks he does, just for a split second, his hands turning to stone before the boy’s on his feet again. There’s laughter and hollering and applause when he holds his hand out to her – he’s always been a gentleman, far politer and more selfless than his years should ever allow. And as they walk off toward the bedrooms, Link throws a look over his shoulder, aimed straight at Rhett, like _I’ll come back_ , and it hits its mark, pinning Rhett there and then. It’s the first time he ever feels it.

* * *

It’s in the way he walks into the room. Christmas draws every McLaughlin in existence, it seems, out of the woodwork, and Rhett’s always forced to talk to people who claim to have known him since his birth, which doesn’t mean much considering the person he’s closest to in this whole world hadn’t known him until he was five years old. This time, it’s an aunt – _or a cousin or a cousin’s girlfriend or maybe even a third, second, fifteenth-removed niece,_ who cares – and she’s talking about... _something_. In any case, the beer Rhett nurses close to his chest is quickly turning lukewarm and he’s contemplating its replacement, when Link finally joins the party, fashionably late as usual, breezing through the front door like it isn’t even there, and he’s met with a reception of faceless relatives crowding him, saying _hi, how are you, you’ve gotten so tall_. And Link _somehow_ knows them all, returning their hellos, clasping hands and shaking them, but his eyes aren’t on them, they’re searching through the crowded room. Until they find Rhett. And then he’s moving, not stopping for a second, until he’s at Rhett’s side again, their ridiculous holiday sweaters facing the other’s like a perfectly matched set of monstrosities. They fall into their easy banter, falling back into place, _back where they belong_ , deterring anyone else from approaching them for the rest of the party. It’s just the two of them, like always.

* * *

It's how he pulls on the collar of his clinging t-shirt. They’re adults now, just barely, and they’re hiking, their way of celebrating their graduation. But the others have disappeared, and it’s just _so_ hot out, hot enough that Link won’t shut up about it. He’s sweating out bullets here, _man, let’s just stop_ , and Rhett gives in, even though he wants to chase that sweet burn in his legs. So he watches Link walk away a few steps, looking for a place to sit, until he finds a good spot on a fallen tree trunk. Seems like a recent fall, and luckily it hadn’t fallen across this track, as obscurely hidden as it is, and when Rhett reaches into his pack for his water, there’s the music of Link’s laughter. He’s found something, _come look_. It’s in his hands, a magazine, it’s faded and fairly torn, but the pictures are still clear, and Rhett has to laugh, too. _What the heck?_ They flip through what’s left of it, sitting knee to knee, being boys again, and despite the absurdity of their find, the manufactured allure in its pages, Rhett is eyeing off the way Link exposes his collarbone, letting the air into his shirt, watching the light catch in the sheen of sweat on his friend’s body. And suddenly he’s swallowing down guilt or regret or something else entirely when Link gets up again, _he feels better_ , and Rhett’s the one following him now all the way back home.

* * *

It’s that smugness he exudes when he’s right. Or maybe it’s pride, Rhett isn’t sure, but at least the bassinet is built now and no longer a mess of fabric and timber on the floor. Their wives are in the other room, watching their children run around, cleaning up their respective messes, no doubt. They each have one now; it’s the oddest feeling and Rhett doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, being someone’s _father_. Link, on the other hand, won’t stop talking about it – he went to all the classes, he’s watched all the shows, even has all the books, even though Rhett is definitely the reader between the two of them. Right now, he’s spurting out some bullshit about how Rhett needs to inspect each nut and bolt every two weeks because it’s hazardous: everything now is a _hazard_. Who could’ve seen this coming, Link as the _careful_ one now? Link, who had gone to the hospital with a broken pelvis, repeating himself every few minutes, his poor mind jumbled and confused, all because he was too reckless to care about his own safety? But Rhett keeps all of this to himself and merely nods, promising his best friend that he’ll _look after his own baby because he_ definitely _wasn’t going to do that before this little chat_ , and Link’s nodding, too, matter-of-factly, the father figure Rhett never knew he could be. And it’s strange, but it makes Rhett just want to jump Link's bones where he stands.

* * *

It’s the way his shoulders tense when their office door opens. Link will never ask for a massage, he’s stubborn like that, _always has been_. So without a word, Rhett closes the door behind him, locking it and not knowing why, before he slips behind Link at his desk. He puts his hands on those broad shoulders, where his guitar-roughened fingers fit just right in the hollows he finds there, even though the shorter man had visibly relaxed only seconds beforehand when he saw it had only been Rhett at the door. The massage continues in silence for a few moments, and all of the rubbing and squeezing and kneading does the trick. Link leans into his friend’s touch, eyes shutting to the pleasure of it, rolling his head back with a moan. And Rhett can’t deny the fact that his jeans are suddenly tighter, or the fact that Link’s lips are mere inches away from where he so badly wants them to be, but he carries on, tempting fate, which is fine by him because, right now, it feels like his entire life has been spent that way, now that he’s thinking about it. Meanwhile, Link’s still making those filthy noises, and Rhett’s holding back some noises of his own, his need building to the point where he has to stop the massage early. He tries to ignore the stunned look on Link’s face as he hurries out, spluttering some nonsense about forgetting to do something. He doesn’t look back.

* * *

It’s the feeling Rhett has when he gets a call late one night, a frantic voice on the other end of the line, and Rhett being unable to resist coming to his friend’s rescue. The car door has barely slammed shut when he bursts into Link’s house and finds the man pacing back and forth across his living room, his face a vague mask of something Rhett has never seen before. But Link stops when he senses Rhett there, and there’s a moment, the smallest moment, when Rhett thinks he knows what’s coming, and the world be damned, he’s right.

Link is running to him.

Link is launching himself at him.

Link in his arms. Link in his hair.

Link kissing him.

 _Link_.

The world must be falling apart around him, but Rhett doesn’t care. How could he possibly when Link is grabbing him by the hand, when Link is pulling the shirt off his back and then his own, when Link is pushing him back onto his bed and climbing on top of him and kissing him everywhere, hands everywhere, loving him everywhere? How is Rhett supposed to remember how to breathe when all he wants to do is open himself up to the man in front of him, the man breathing in the air Rhett pants at him when his nimble fingers reach the button of his jeans, undoing it with a casual flick?

No, no, _this isn’t real_ , and Rhett’s shutting his eyes, shutting out the reality of this, because surely this is something otherworldly; this is some fantastical scenario his brain has conjured up for him in his slumber, but _dang it_ , if his brain isn’t so damn good in the way it sends a wave of pleasure screaming through him as a wet warmth wraps itself around his dick and holds and sucks and licks like it’s a fucking popsicle.

Rhett gurgles out a chuckle because this is _insane_ , he must have gone crazy at some point, but his eyes shoot open to a dark mop of hair at his hips, moving up and down in time with the surge of ecstasy that hits his limbs all at once, and oh _god_ it’s true, and as if to confirm, Link sits up and grabs at his own cock – _when did his pants even come off?_ – jerking lazily, as he puts a finger at Rhett’s cleft and pushes in. And instinctively, Rhett clenches because _what the fuck is he doing_ , they’ve never done this before, or has Link ever done this before? _Has he? Oh god_ , and that’s enough for Rhett’s mind to go haywire with lust, knowing Link has thought about this, has wanted or does want this, and he wills his body to accept the intrusion, which it begins to do at a painfully slow rate, far slower than Rhett would like.

Before he can really concentrate on it though, Link pulls his fingers out suddenly, shaking his head at himself a little – _silly Link_ – and he’s reaching for his bedside table. It’s a bottle of lube, Rhett chokes at the realisation, and it’s as if no time has passed before Link’s finger is slick again at Rhett’s entrance, slick again inside Rhett’s ass, touching him where he thought no one would ever go, where only Link will ever go. It’s so good, _why is it so good?_ Because it’s Link, _dumbass_ , and it’s Link again pushing at the ring of muscle that’s been massaged well and good, his fingers gone and something else – _thick, hot, ugh_ – in its place. And when he pushes in once more, Rhett’s name mingling on his lips with the rumbling growl that leaves it, too, Rhett is convinced again that he really has lost his mind because Link is _fucking_ him, and that’s about all the thought he can handle right now because _shit, this is really happening_.

And this is how it goes for the next _god only knows how long_ : a battle between reality and not playing out right here in Link’s bedroom, and Rhett makes the decision to believe it and to remember it – _please remember this_ – and, just as he lets go, he’s already being swept under, the highest height he has ever been in his life, a new heat pooling inside him, and he’s finished, crashing into a bliss he has spent his whole life waiting for.

It’s the way Link nestles into the space – or what’s left of it – beside Rhett on the bed, curling into the crook of the bewildered man’s arm. It’s the breath that tickles Rhett’s beard, and his heart drumming a beat against Rhett’s ribcage. It’s the way his hair falls all over the place, the oceans in his eyes, blunt fingernails resting on Rhett's heaving chest.

It’s the story of their past and the certainty of their future; it’s them right here and now together in the dark, finally being able to see it.

It’s all of it, and it’s everything.

**Author's Note:**

> My fourth submission to the Rhink Summer Fication 2k16, and my prompts were "finding a sun-bleached porno mag in the woods", "popsicles" (although this one only barely makes the cut, hah).
> 
> Um. I'm gonna be honest. This wasn't planned. Like, at. all. I just sat down to write a scene or two of what was going to be an entirely different fic, something a lot fluffier and a helluva lot less smutty. But no, instead this is here and it's a hot mess, and boy I hope you like it because it just kinda happened wait where am I what am I doing here posting another fic that I most definitely wrote in one sitting and didn't expect would go for as long as it does I've never done that before aaaaaah, alright I'm gonna go lie down now bye.
> 
> (But just before I do, please feel free to point out any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise, because I really did write this in one sitting, and I *really* can't go over it again. It's like that feeling you get when you've reached the end of your long-winded rant about something you're really passionate about, and you're just so exhausted that, no, I'm not explaining it again NO. That's how I feel right now. I might be delirious, who knows. Kudos and comments! Kthxbyeloveyouuuu.)


End file.
